


Found, but forgotten.

by arfrid



Category: Despicable Me (Movies)
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Angst and Feels, Character Study, Child Abandonment, Don't Like Don't Read, Gen, No Fluff, Only a theory and headcanon for her past; okay?, Trigger Warnings!, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:21:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25829590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arfrid/pseuds/arfrid
Summary: Sometimes she looks at herself in the mirror and sees her mother.Sometimes she looks at her siblings and sees her past and present pain.
Relationships: Margo Gru & her Mother
Kudos: 16





	Found, but forgotten.

**Author's Note:**

> Just so you know, this is a THEORY and/or HEADCANON about Margo's past. None of this is canon.

_Margo walked on with her mother, happily watching the flowers as they walked past them. She ran ahead, gasping at a hummingbird that was at a flower, and got out her sketchpad. She started to draw it._

_“Mommy, mommy, look!” She showed her mother the picture she had drawn, and her mother smiled. People often said that Margo looked like her mother, and she could see why: they had the same big doe eyes, long brown hair and even shared similar fashion sense. The only differences were that her mother’s skin was just a shade darker and that she seemed much prouder of herself, so much more sure of herself than Margo was, it sometimes even made her jealous. It didn’t stop her from loving her mother, though._

_“Very beautiful, dearie. How about you sit here for a while I get the shopping? I’ll even look at your pictures when I come back.” Her mother told her. Margo gasped and hastily nodded. Her mother chuckled, then gestured to a spot that seemed like many people had sat before; there was a worn patch in the middle of the flowers with a path leading to it._

_Margo gasped again, then hugged her mother. “You’re the best!” She said, then ran towards the spot, laughing as she fell over and started to draw the creatures and flowers there. She waved at her mother as she walked away, and started working on a bumblebee’s wings._

_After having a swift nap at a bench nearby, she checked the time; 1 AM. She had been there for three hours. She looked at the path her mother had taken and sighed, thinking about when her mother would come back. She wasn’t worried. Surely it would be soon, right?_

_She started worrying when 10 hours passed. She thought of things that might’ve happened: Her mother could have been kidnapped by aliens and sent to a magical planet to harvest ores for life, or been found by a group of Mafia and taken away to become one of them._

_She didn’t want to think about one of her thoughts._

_Her mother couldn’t have forgotten her, right?_

_She kept drawing._

_Okay, now she was getting really worried. It had been a day and a half, and she was starting to hyperventilate. She grabbed her water bottle to start drinking, and found it to be empty._

_She started panicking more, a thousand thoughts and theories coming together in her mind like puzzle pieces._

_She decided to start walking the direction her mother had taken, taking her sketchpad with her._

_As she started walking, she paused, turned and grabbed one of the flowers._

_“For safe keeping.” She said, turned and walked along the path._

_She was starting to reconsider if this was a bad idea. Maybe she should have stayed put; her mother was bound to be looking for her._

_“Or,” a nasty voice her head said, “she’s forgotten you.”_

_“Shut up.” She told it out loud._

_After what seemed like days, she reached a store. There was a stout man, kind of chubby, who was counting pieces of paper. She stepped in, and the bell inside it rang. The man immediately looked up and beamed at her._

_“My first customer in years!” He had an accent, slightly Spanish, slightly French. He ran over to her, and seemed to scan her. “Oh – but you are just a child? Where is your mommy and daddy?”_

_Margo tried to smile, but it came out weak from exhaustion. “Mommy said daddy left me for Military. Mommy said she’d be back soon and that she’d look at my sketches!”_

_The man looked at her sadly, as if he knew something she didn’t. “I’ll let you wait here in case your mommy comes back. I’ll even look at your drawings! How about that?”_

_Margo nodded, but there was an unexplainable sinking feeling in her stomach, though she didn’t know why. She showed him her drawings of the birds and flowers and insects she had drawn. He gave her praise on each one, smiling fondly at her as if he was her own daughter. He even tickled her a bit._

_He let her sleep in the back room, because apparently he lived there. He said he’d be fine sleeping on the couch, and because she was a child, she slept on the bed._

_The sinking feeling didn’t go away._

_She stayed for a day or so before he called social services. While they waited for them to come, they played hand games, such as Rock Paper Scissors, Butterflies and Shadow Hands._

_Once they came, Margo explained her whole situation to social services, they listened intently and smiled at her once she was done, though Margo suspected it was fake. She was right, because the moment he thought she wasn’t looking, he looked at the store man solemnly._

_The nice store man said that she was going to live somewhere else, that she would find another. That they were going say goodbye. Margo cried and the man held her._

_He told her that if he, they, sorry, he corrected himself. If they were lucky enough, they’d be living together. She cheered up at that and her tears dried._

_It took 2 hours to get to the city. Once they were there, Margo had to go to police, then she had to talk to someone about a new home._

_“No!” She exclaimed. “My momma is gonna find me! You just have to wait!”_

_The man looked at her sadly, and explained that her mother had left her for three and a half days, so she wasn’t coming back for her. Margo wanted to argue, wanted to say that her mother would never do that, but she knew it was true._

_She held back her tears as the voice in her head taunted her._

_“I told you.”_

_She thought she was going to move in with the nice store man._

_She didn’t._

_As they were finalizing the paperwork for her to legally live there, he suffered from a heart attack that had apparently been building up for years._

_“So that’s what he meant.” She said when she was alone. “‘If I am lucky enough’, he said…”_

_She broke down crying._

_Margo was sent to a place. ‘Miss Hattie’s Home for Girls’ the sign above it read. It seemed colorful and pretty, so Margo walked inside and saw girls playing, if slightly saddened. They seemed to be around the ages 5-12, and there were no teenagers, no-one older than twelve._

_She looked in the playground and saw a girl in pink playing alone. Margo hadn’t even unpacked when she walked up to her and asked if she wanted to be friends. When asked what room she wanted, Margo chose to live with her new friend’s. She thought the girl, Edith, might cry from happiness when she hugged her._

_It turned out Miss Hattie wasn’t all that nice. She left them in solitary (a cardboard box) if they misbehaved, and were berated even when their cookies sold well._

_A few months after she moved in, a new girl moved in. She was three years old, and Margo immediately made friends with her. She already had a good friendship… no, siblingship with her sister, Edith, and she wanted another girl under her wing, since no other girls never seemed to like her._

_The girl moved in with them._

_The three said their prayers each night, praying for a family._

_One night, it came true._

Margo looked away from her sister, her legally related sister, and turned away.

This father wasn’t any better than her mother. He didn’t seem to care about them, and even scared them sometimes. And this house definitely didn’t seem to be safe for kids.

She hated it. The vibe it gave her. The vibe the man that was supposedly her new father.

 _No way,_ she thought. _He’ll never, ever, be my dad._

She looked around the room, their beds that were detained bombs, the weapons crawling around the place. She glanced at the small white flower that lay in her hand.

_Just have to make-do, I suppose._


End file.
